


Bring it to the Surface

by Zinc (zincviking)



Series: A Trevelyanian Inquisition [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, CBT, Consensual Violence, Explicit Consent, Hitting, Intense, Multi, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5843179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zincviking/pseuds/Zinc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian is curious how his Amatus spends time with their shared lover, Iron Bull.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring it to the Surface

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely everything in this scene is consented. Max wants it, Dorian wants it, Iron Bull wants it. They've discussed all of their issues in their scenes far before this. Despite this, some people might find this triggering, since there is screaming, obvious pain, and sexual release due to pain, as well as blood mentions. Please be warned, that if you find anything like this triggering, this may not be the fic for you. <3

It had been on Dorian’s mind for the last few weeks since Maxwell’s last private session with the Qunari. He saw the thin lines of cuts that seemed half healed with potion, the bruises on his thighs, back, hips and chest, so dark it looks like he had obsidian embedded beneath his skin. It had never looked so bad before, and Dorian demanded answers from his love. 

“Did he beat you? Did he not stop when you said the safe word?” He demanded when he saw the marks littering his Amatus’ skin. They looked extremely painful, and Dorian was not ashamed to admit that all he thought when he first saw it was that Tevinter was right: Qunari were just mindless beasts of a hivemind. 

“Love, no--” 

“You’re the Inquisitor, you don’t have to be afraid of him if he’s abusing you. I’ll kill him. Hell, everyone will.” He growled, furious, cupping Max’s cheeks. His neck and face and hands, those were all untouched. Every other part of him was bruised, cut, or otherwise marked. Even the bottoms of his feet had cane lines, still red from the evening’s session. 

“Dorian! He’s not abusing me,” Max promised, pressing a quick kiss to Dorian’s lips. “I swear. It’s...difficult to explain. He’s helping me, and you know Bull. The second it even remotely sounds like “Ka” he stops. It’s infuriating,” Max chuckled. Dorian paused in his fury, staring at Max with a deep frown. Eventually Max shifted in place awkwardly, a red blush creeping over his fair skin. “Stop that.” He said, pushing Dorian’s face away. 

Dorian grabbed Max’s hand, looking into those mint green eyes with some sort of sorrow in his own. Max frowned more, shifting more, trying to figure out what Dorian was thinking. “You _want_ this?” The mage whispered and suddenly Max looked worried and wary, becoming more enflamed with red as he blushed. 

“Well, yeah. Bull knows it, knows how much I need...with Adamant, and The Winter Palace and Alistair...and that Qun business, and Bianca, and that damn dragon almost killed you because of me, and then Josie’s family problems, all of the people Cassandra needs to kill, Sera’s killing, and Cullen’s lyrium, it’s been a really stressful week. I...it’s hard to explain, love.” He babbled. The expression on Dorian’s face didn’t change for the better. His frown deepened and his brows furrowed. Max struggled for the words, literally weighing his thoughts in each hand as he tried to figure out a way to _explain_. 

“Okay, here, it all builds up in here,” Max said softly, gesturing to his head, “and sometimes just a romp with you, or the three of us, or even just sitting with you and drinking brandy, or playing Wicked Grace, or killing bandits helps. But sometimes, it doesn’t. Sometimes, somehow, it adds to it. And it’s all stuck up there, in my mind, and I can’t hide from it but I can’t face it either,” he explain as he took both of Dorian’s hands. “So Bull takes me, and brings it all up to the surface, and then he let’s it all out. Those sessions...it’s not about pleasure, really, not sexually anyways, though it can be, but mostly it’s just release so I don’t lose my mind and tell the Commander to march on Val Royeaux because their frilly cakes are too good. You know?” 

Dorian was at a loss for words. Max _wanted_ to be mark black and blue and everything in between? He wanted the cuts, the gashes, and the whip marks? Dorian shook his head a little, “But this is the first time I’ve seen you with this many...anything…” 

“Yeah...like I said this week has been an absolute nightmare. Bull had to go for a little longer and harder than usual. And most of the time, the Healing potions take care of it.” Max explained, cupping Dorian’s cheek before kissing him sweetly. “But I’m all better now.” 

They had left it at that. Maxwell took a healing potion each morning for three more days before the last of the bruises finally faded and the cuts closed up, and Max did seem much happier. His smiles reached his eyes now, and his jokes came easier. It seems that the entire mood around Skyhold was just _better_. Even Solas cracked a smile or two. Dorian was still waiting for Cullen to do so, but as it was, it was a vast improvement. But then more attacks, more problems, more rifts and more dragons and more, more, more. And Dorian saw the effect on the Inquisitor. He smiled, still, and his jokes still came, but it was all delayed. He was quieter, more solemn. 

And then he drank from the Well. 

“You’re going to see Bull soon?” Dorian asked one night, curled up behind Max, holding him close, hopeful. He wasn’t sure how much anyone could take anymore, most of all Max. Even Sera wasn’t smiling and joking as much. Max sighed in his arms, hiding his face into Dorian’s palm, breathing in the scent of his ridiculously overpriced scented oil. 

“I usually don’t do those sort of things so close together. It’s only been a few weeks.” 

“If you need it…” 

“Yeah...I do,” Max said softly, kissing Dorian’s hand sweetly, sucking on the pad of his thumb. “I’ll ask Bull when he has a free night.” Dorian breathed a soft sigh of relief, kissing Max’s temple before settling for sleep. 

Dorian walked with the rogue to the Herald’s Rest the next day. The Inquisitor was signing off on reports, listening to scouts, and Josephine, and Dorian was half tempted to shoo them all way. When they reached the Rest, though, Maxwell did just that. “I’ll see to all this after lunch, and Josie, call a meeting for three. There’s issues in the Dirth that need our immediate attention.” 

The scouts bowed and Josie curtsied with a simple “My lord” before she departed. Dorian followed Max into the tavern to where Bull was lounging in his usual spot. Dorian was nervous but Max looked composed, calm even, and Dorian sighed. It was his Inquisitor face. Dorian didn’t mind it so much, but sometimes Max whipped it out when he thought saying or doing anything else was going to hurt Dorian. He brought the face out when Dorian talked about going back to Tevinter. But that was an issue for another day. 

“Hey Boss and Vint,” Bull greeted around a mug of ale, though to Dorian it looked like a mini cask with a handle haphazardly attached. Maybe it was. His one eye looked over them both before he settled back with a frown. Max sat next to him, and Dorian quickly made himself comfortable on the Inquisitor’s lap, fingers toying with his red hair. “Already?” the Qunari asked with a frown. Dorian wasn’t going to even ask how he knew. 

“Yes. Well...the Well.” Max said in way of explanation as a wench brought by a drink for him, conveniently ignoring Dorian. Well no matter, he’d just sip from Max’s. Bull nodded. There must not have been a need for any more explanation because they were discussing schedules, as if this was going to be a simple meeting to talk things out. As he talked, Max’s hand wandered up and down Dorian’s side, giving him small, brief tingles of pleasure. 

“Well, if you want to arrange The Chargers heading down to Adamant this week instead, that open day you have tuesday will be more than good enough,” Bull offered. Max nodded, taking back the tankard Dorian stole to sip it. 

“Sounds marvelous,” Dorian murmured, and before his brief bout of liquid courage left, “May I watch?” 

With how fast Max whipped his head to look at him, Dorian was surprised he didn’t break his neck. Even Bull looked surprised, which would’ve been insulting if it wasn’t so worrying. Dorian pressed his lips together into a thin line, wondering if he had crossed a line that he was meant to never even toe. Max sputtered on his ale, and as he recovered, he squeezed Dorian’s side. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t nearly as lovely as the caresses he was receiving earlier. 

“You okay, Boss?” 

“Y-yeah,” Max coughed as he recovered. “Love...Dorian, I’m...Are you _sure_? This...isn’t what you’re used to. This isn’t some rope and some spanking,” he murmured, keeping his voice very even and very low. “You may not know what you’re asking.” 

“If you do sit in, which is up to Maxwell, you can’t say Katoh...if anything you don’t like happens, you’ll just have to leave. It won’t be your scene. You won’t be in control.” Dorian swallowed a bit, a bit daunted by that prospect, but he was curious, and concerned, and he cupped Max’s face gently. 

“I’m sure. But it’s up to you, Amatus.” Max swallowed a bit, that Inquisitor veneer wavering before he closed his eyes and nodded. 

“Tuesday night, Boss.” Bull confirmed and Max nodded again as he and Dorian stood. 

  


Solas was nothing if discreet, and he asked no questions when Max asked him to cast silencing wards on Bull’s room. Dorian wondered if this was the first time, and assumed that it probably was not. Solas didn’t stick around, practically running out of the door when he was finished. Dorian wondered if he should follow suit but he was too curious, too intrigued by his lover’s needs, that he remained in the corner. The room was as it always was. Messed up bed, overturned dresser. Some leaves, clothes, weapons laying around. But the corner closer to Dorian had a filled tub, and across from him was completely devoid of any furniture, it all being moved over. Boots and shirt off, he watched with idle rubbing along his own skin as Bull started. 

He made Max disrobe completely, and the redhead did so without a fuss. Everyone in the room had seen the man naked many times before. Dorian set a silent thank you to the Maker as Max slowly revealed himself. Strong muscles, corded beneath his skin, trained to twist and bend and flip him through the air. His shoulders were broad, from Templar bloodlines Dorian figured, but his waist was tapered. There was a dusting of red hair across his chest, some peeking out from beneath his armpits. And, oh Maker, that jut of his hips making the perfect “V”, following thick, red, curly hair to his cock. It was limp, and flaccid, but Dorian's mouth watered at the sight anyways. Bull seemed of the same opinion, hands wandering over fair, unmarked skin. 

Max moaned, and Bull dipped his tongue teasingly into his mouth before capturing him into a simple kiss before he picked up the human. Dorian watched as Bull placed him on the bed, settling over him. His hands started to wander, massaging out knots, kinks, and tension. He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t rough either, and Dorian watched as Bull worked on the Inquisitor’s body like it was dough. 

“What’s your word?” Bull asked as he worked against a particularly large knot beneath his shoulder blades. Max moaned, but laid still beneath the Qunari’s bulk, all tension slowly leaving his body. 

“Katoh,” he murmured, eyes closing. Bull hummed his approval. Dorian watched as the merc’s large hands pressed against the rogue’s back, his arms, his legs. His hands ran down his skin, pressing into his thighs, along the back of his knees, into his calves. He spent time massaging out the knots and tension in his feet, then each toe before he moved up Max’s body, leaving soft kisses where his skin was the reddest from Bull’s pushing and kneading. He worked down each arm, stretching out his shoulders, his elbows, pressing a kiss to the inside of each elbow, and then pushed all the tension out of each hand, each finger. Then he finally massaged out his neck, along his jawline, and pressing kisses to his spine. 

Max was silent, for the most part, but for small moans when Bull worked out particularly large knots. By the time Bull was done, the man looked as relaxed as a cat in the sunlight. His eyes were half-lidded, staring at the wall, and his breathing was steady and deep, like he was sleeping. Bull moved him. He didn’t move, didn’t regain his tension, just let Bull manhandle him where he desired. Satisfied, Bull grabbed some silk, and wrapped his wrists together. Then he added rope over it. Max didn’t protest, didn’t fight, move, or tense up. He just let it happen, watching Bull through his lidded eyes. The Qunari bent to kiss him, sweet and soft, sliding his tongue into the welcoming mouth. It wasn’t demanding, it just simply was, and Dorian watched as Max barely kissed back. He just let Bull do what he wished. 

Bull pulled the human up, carrying him away from the bed and more towards the empty spot in the corner. Max was like a ragdoll. A soft groan was all that left him. There, in the ceiling, was a metal fixture attached to the stone, like a strange upside down pyramid. It was newer than most of the metal fixtures in the Hold. At the tip of it was a blunt hook. To Bull, it was only a few inches above his hand. To Max, however, it was just under an arm’s reach. Bull hung the Inquisitor by the rope around his wrists, steadying his swinging body. 

Dorian eyed the ground, seeing Max’s toes barely meet the stone. He didn’t even try to support his weight, still limp, like he was made of straw. He remained there as Bull whistled, a soft, sweet tune that sounded like “Sera Was Never”. He wandered the room, leaving Max there to hang with a soft groan. He busied himself, gathering flasks and bottles onto the overturned dresser. Potions, Dorian realized, and a waterskin. He busied arranging them until Max started to whimper. Dorian was concerned, but Bull didn’t move. Finally, Max relaxed again, and a moment later Bull pulled out a wooden box from beneath the bed. He set it next to the potions, opening it carefully. He arranged the various flogs, whips, and paddles he wanted to use. Dorian had a few used on him before, and his cock twitched as he thought back to those nights. 

Bull approached Max empty handed, looking down at the human. Dorian’s heart thudded in his chest, waiting. “What’s your word?” Bull asked again. Max licked his lips, his body still relaxed and pliant. 

“Katoh.” 

“What’s it for?” 

“If I want to stop.” 

Bull seemed satisfied, his hands wandering over the man’s body once again. The skin had lost some of it’s redness from the intense massage, but Bull didn’t seem too concerned. As he ran his hand over the smooth skin, lightly freckles, he steadied Max. A resounding crack filled the room, the sound of skin on skin, that startled Dorian out of his sleepy state just as quickly as it did Max. Bull held Max by his ass, fingers digging into his crack. On his stomach, where the smooth yet hard curves of abdominal muscles clenched, was a reddening shape of a large handprint. Dorian’s cock twitched in his pants as he watched Bull repeat the action, hitting higher, lower, on his sides, his pectorals, the tops of his thighs. With each hit Max would tense then relax with a deep groan to accompany the movement. His head hung, eyes watching the massive hand strike him again and again. Dorian undid his pants. He wasn’t completely hard yet, but it never hurt to prepare. 

Once the skin of his torso and thighs were red, Bull curled his fingers into his skin, and dragged long white lines down the expanse of his chest all the way to where the red hair ended to meet his interested cock. The Inquisitor moaned, weak, as the lines went from white to red, blending into the irritated bloodshot skin. Bull repeated this a few times, doing up and down his sides, across and down and over on his chest and stomach, crisscrossing on his thighs. 

Without warning, Bull turned Max, his bonds twisting, and held him in place to look over the white expanse of skin. “Damn, I fucking love you redheads. Everyone thinks they know who’s in charge, but we both know, don’t we Maxxie?” he asked, striking the rogue’s ass. _Hard_. Dorian flinched as Max let out a yelp of pain before quieting down. Bull laughed. “Redheads...so sensitive to pain. So fucking hot.” He goaded, striking Max again and again. It wasn’t a spank, it was _hitting_. Much harder than what he had done to his chest and stomach. Soon, Max’s ass was redder than his hair, deep and almost bloody. Then Bull started lower, striking the back of his thighs, angling his hand so his nails would catch the bottom of the Inquisitor’s cheeks. 

“Fuck, fuck, Bull,” Max moaned softly. His body was still pliant, but Dorian could see his fingers twist and writhe against the ropes, his skin around his wrists twisting, red appearing there as well. Bull didn’t let up at his words. If anything, he got rougher, faster, hitting harder and harder. “Bull,” he moaned, and it sounded like a beg. Dorian was unused to this. Bull usually had him address him as master or ser. Max seemed not constrained by this. But then again, this was different. They had different rules. Dorian found himself getting harder, the little yelps and whimpers of pain from his Amatus easing his hand around his own dick, stroking himself through his smallclothes. 

“You don’t deserve pleasure, do you?” Bull asked, and Dorian thought for a second that Bull was incorporating him into the scene before Max whimpered, shaking his head against his arms. “No. Only heroes get pleasure. You’re nothing. You can’t do a damn thing. You can’t lead. You know this. Why are you pretending?” 

“Because,” Max said, voice breaking. Bull let his body go, steadying him so he didn’t swing back into a twist as the bonds above unraveled. “No one else…” 

“No one else is as stupid as you,” Bull replied, smacking Max across his face. Dorian gasped, covering his mouth. Neither of them paid any attention to him as Bull made sure he was steady before he went, picking up a few tools before discarding them, carefully choosing, taking his time. After a while Max whimpered, head lolling back to get a look at his bonds. His fingers went still, however, the second Bull hit him with a flog that had several tails of leather, thin. Max let out a yelp. It was all the encouragement Bull needed. He hit each side of Max, stomach, back, sides, thighs, ass. Even his underarms, and his armpits, causing Max to writhe where he was hanging, trying to get away from the strikes. The redhead’s cock was hard now, leaking, and as red as the rest of his body but for a very different reason. Precum dripped down the shaft, soaking into the hair bunched up at the base. 

“Are you trying to get away?” Bull snapped, and Max stilled, sniffling into his arm. 

“Stop.” 

“No.” Bull answered, hitting him across his middle, striking his cock. Max let out a shriek of pain, body suddenly very not limp, tensing and convulsing under the pain. Dorian’s mouth went dry. His mind said that this was not okay, that his Amatus’ pain was not arousing, but his cock was very much in disagreement. He wasn’t sure to be disturbed, or to just give in to the arousal. Bull didn’t let up, hitting the man repeatedly, every other strike landing across his ass or his cock. Every time, Max let out a shriek of pure pain, fighting against the bonds as he hid his face into his arms. 

“You’re disgusting,” Bull said with a growl, placing the flog down as he ran his fingers over the other implements. He took up a narrow cane, whipping it through the air near Max’s ears. The response was immediate. He writhed, tilting his head away with a sob into his arm. Dorian bit around his knuckles, eyes wide, watching as Bull wrapped his forefinger and thumb around the base of Max’s swollen balls, tilting them up. Red hair dusted over them, and Dorian can remember that sweet musk that was entirely Max. He flinched when Max let out another shriek, his body bowing, as Bull hit them with the cane. It didn’t seem that hard of a hit, but repeated strikes had Max screaming into his bicep. Dorian could see tears coming down his face. Dorian’s gut twisted, and he wanted to get up and tell Bull to stop hurting him. He remained seated. If it was too much, Max would’ve said the word. 

Bull then moved down, licking him where he struck, soft, like a kitten. Max moaned, then, strangled and weak, and his cock twitched against his belly, leaving a smear of precum there. Bull licked it away as he let him go. Dorian gripped the base of his own cock, teasingly moving his hand over it, through the smallclothes. Finally, he shoved them down enough to pull himself out. He refrained from stroking himself just yet, watching with wide, curious eyes, hand gripping his base. 

Bull had replaced the cane and took up what Dorian had point blank refused once. A long narrow whip, Bull trailed it over Max’s red, sore body, before he forced Max’s mouth open. He placed the handle of the whip into his mouth and Max clenched his teeth around it, watching Bull with lidded, wary eyes. His breathing was more shallow, a far cry from where he started. He was no long relaxed, pliant, easily manhandled. His body was tense, waiting for whatever Bull had next. Bull ran his hands over the body, hanging for him, 

Bull clenched a fist and punched. Max moaned against the whip in his mouth, arms shaking weakly. He was now desperately trying to keep himself on his toes, and Dorian bit his lower lip, hand slowly moving over himself. He couldn’t explain why he found the whole scene arousing, but he wasn’t the only one. Max was painfully hard, cock twitching at every hit, every strike, every caress and word from Bull. And Bull’s pants tented with his impressive cock, but he ignored his own pleasure, watching Max with a careful eye. Bull beat his fist into Max’s body, like he was a personal punching bag. Dorian could see where the bruises would form. No wonder Max had been covered head to toe with them before. 

Then, slowly, Bull’s hands found Max’s jaw, fingers prying his mouth open to take the whip. Max whimpered, eyes screwing shut. Dorian’s hand stilled over his cock, feeling his impending orgasm approaching much too quickly. 

“What is your word?” Bull asked for the third time that night, and Dorian felt like the heat in the room was suddenly too much to bare. His skin was sweaty, and hot, and covered in goosebumps. Max shivered under the intensity of the question, body tensing and untensing, waiting eagerly for the coming abuse. 

“Katoh.” 

Bull stroking his thumb over Max’s jaw before he stepped back and lifted his arm. The whip came down with a crack and Max screamed, head falling back. Dorian bit into his knuckles, watching with wide eyes. His cock twitched, momentarily forgotten, as Bull whipped the Inquisitor repeatedly, drawing blood and screams of pain. The hanging body writhed and fought against the strikes, but through out the screams and the whimpers, and the “stop, please, bull” there were moans and begging of “more, more, more”. Bull complyed, the whip finding flesh on his chest, his stomach, his sides, his back, his arse. His thighs were cut open, under his arms, and across his hips. Dorian shuddered, Max’s cock bouncing with every bow and arch of his back, every shaking scream and pleading moan. His dick was soaked with the precum dripping down it, his pubes sticking to his skin. Dorian’s hand found his cock again, giving a stroke every time Bull hit Max, stifling a moan into his knuckle, struggling to remain the quiet third party. A fly on the wall. 

The objective, scholarly part of Dorian’s brain noticed how Bull struck him. It was always skin deep. The blood that dripped from the cuts was just brought to the surface by the strikes and beating before hand. Finally Bull eased up, the last few licks startling Max before he set the whip aside. Bull smirked, stepping up to bite at Max’s nipple, causing him to cry out in pleasure and pain. “You gonna come?” 

“Please, please, please, please,” Max chanted, sounding more like a deranged animal than the leader of the most feared institution in Thedas. Dorian felt his own balls draw up as he leaned back, stroking himself harder as he watched. Bull laughed, low and cruel as he stepped back. His palm teased Max’s balls, his shaft, his head. 

“You’re wet like a tavern wench. Slut.” Bull scolded, as he flicked at Max’s balls. The man gasped, writhing, bucking into the strike. Tears stained the inquisitor’s face, blood was drying on his body, precum coated his dick and upper thighs. Bull flicked him again, before he held his hand around his base, and swallowed him down. Max cried out in pleasure and pain as Bull found a blooming bruise, like a blue rose in the morning, and dug his thumb into it. 

Max’s screamed cut off, strangled, as his throat constricted and his body tensed. His muscles gripped him, forcing him to bend around Bull’s head as best he could while being hung from the ceiling. Bull moved his head up and down, and the _noises_ , Maker have mercy. Dorian was stroking himself hard and fast as Max moaned and cried and begged, his voice thick with arousal, pain, deep and hoarse. Suddenly Max gasped, low and long, like he had been holding his breath for too long. His eyes rolled up in his head as his body convuled and spasmed under Bull’s head. Dorian came with a low, long groan, heat in his stomach building until he could handle it no more. It spilled over his hand and stomach, and he had to take a moment to breathe, his head light and airy. 

Slowly, as he and Max came down, Bull lifted his head off of Max slowly after swallowing everything down. He licked his head with a smirk before his features suddenly soften. He held Max up as the man’s body became limp. His head lolled, and Dorian wondered if he passed out. But...no, he hadn’t, Dorian noticed his eyes, lidded, but blinking slowly. Bull carefully lifted him off of the hook, and cradled him close. 

“Dorian, heat up the tub again, would ya?” He asked softly, as if he was scared to speak too loud. Dorian complied immediately with a wave of his hand, and the tub’s water was now giving off steam again, adding to the heat of the room. “Hey, Max,” Bull murmured softly as he walked over to the tub, “I’m going to put you into some nice, warm water now, okay?” 

Max gave mumble of something, and Bull slowly crouched, gently laying Max into the water. He quickly untied the bonds around his wrists and carefully lowered his arms into the water. Dorian grabbed a spare rag and cleaned himself up as he righted himself. Bull ignored his own pleasure for the moment, and carefully started to clean Max up. Dorian settled next to the tub, carefully running his fingers over Max’s hair, through the long locks on top and brushing over the shaved sides. 

“You did so well, Max. I’m so proud of you,” Bull murmured in that deep, lovely voice of his. “You’re so good.” He continued with the sweet words as he washed away the dried blood and precum and cum. Dorian stood slowly and moved over to grab a healing potion and the waterskin, returning shortly. After a while, Dorian keeping the water warm with his magic, Max’s eyes finally started to clear and, slowly, a smile crept onto his face. “Ah, there you are, Boss,” Bull chuckled, rinsing some soap from his skin. 

“Hi,” Max murmured sleepily, curling around Bull’s massive arm. Dorian chuckled at how incredibly adorable the most powerful man in Thedas was. “I’m thirsty,” he said softly. 

“Here, Amatus,” Dorian said just as soft, offering the waterskin. Max took it shyly, sipping it as Bull finished washing away all of the filth and mess. He turned to get a spare cloth for Max, folding it on a chair on top of an oversized shirt. After Max drank his full, Dorian offered the healing potion, which Max drank with a grimace. 

“That shit always tastes horrible,” he mumbled as he stood. Even as he did, the smaller of the cuts were starting to heal with the magic of the potion rushing through his body. He accepted help from Dorian as he got out of the tub, and Dorian patted down the water from his body, kissing the bare spots of his body sweetly. “Did you…” Max started before trailing off as Dorian pulled the shirt over his head. 

“I think I understand more, now,” Dorian murmured, kissing him like he was the finest wine Dorian ever had. “It was...amazing.” Bull chuckled behind them where he was cleaning up the floor beneath the hook, wiping away the precum and blood that dripped there. He had put away the tools and toys, and he was folding up the rag he had used, tossing it onto the pile of other laundry. Dorian helped Max to the bed since he was standing on still shaky legs. 

“Thank you,” Max mumbled, eyes drifting closed. Dorian smiled a bit as he tucked his love into the bed, a kiss trailing over his temple before he suddenly turned to Bull with a hungry look in his eyes. 

“Mmm, I love that look,” Bull chuckled as Dorian crowded him against the wall. Bull could’ve fought, but what was the point when he knew what was going to happen. Dorian sank low, pulling Bull out with a smirk. He was large, hard, practically coming already. The qunari made a low groan as Dorian wrapped his lips around the head. It didn’t take long, Dorian sinking himself as much as he could around the man’s girth, his jaw aching each time. His hand stroked what he couldn’t reach, fondling his balls. Bull came with a loud groan, similar to the roar of pleasure he gave during fights, and Dorian swallowed what he could with a moan. 

He licked Bull clean before the Qunari yanked him up, kissing his messy lips with a hunger, licking them clean. Dorian chuckled, deepening the kiss before they parted, breathing heavy. Dorian cleaned up the rest of his face with sigh. “You’re absolutely barbaric.” 

“I fucking love coming on your face.” Bull said in retort as he settled on the bed, the wood creaking beneath his weight. He didn’t bother tucking himself into his pants, and Dorian sighed again as he finished cleaning up. He wandered over, laying on one side of the massive Qunari. Max, deep in sleep, rolled over, instinctively seeking heat, and huddled against the wall of muscle. 

Dorian smiled as he felt Bull fall into sleep with heavy, steady breaths. Dorian reached over, gently intertwining his fingers with Max’s over Bull’s stomach before he settled into sleep himself.


End file.
